Peace and Plenty
by peachandbetty
Summary: Drabbles around a post-war time of peace and plenty. 1xR. 3x4. 5xS. Others, and some none at all.
1. Chapter 1

Relena didn't know how she felt about the fact that at 22 years old, a taller, leaner Heero Yuy could throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and did if he felt for even a second she may argue with his assessment of her current safety. 'Dignity means nothing to the dead,' he'd tell her. On the one hand, his silent but oh so obvious teasing over her lack of vertical progression over the years was becoming rather stale. On the other…there was something that appealed to her most primal nature when his intimidating form, heavy and solid, pressed into her, dominated her and drove her to bliss.

Indeed, she thought, a silver lining in every cloud.


	2. Chapter 2

Only two months into their delicate relationship, Heero quickly came to the conclusion that he would have to learn a lot of new things very quickly if it was to survive. For the most part, navigating his way through the intricacies of romantic partnership was common sense; treat her with respect, trust her completely and communicate everything, no matter how small.

But then there were the things that threw him up, down and sideways, things that had him spending almost inefficient amounts of time trying to figure out, to understand and execute effectively. He wanted, after all, to make this work having broken down and pieced back together his entire history and resultant insecurities to arrive at the one simple fact that he didn't want to live his life any other way.

She was mad at him, and from what his less-than-useful braided colleague him, that wasn't a good sign this early on. The so-called 'honeymoon' period should still be in effect. But…he didn't know, had not even a shred of an inkling, why this would be the case.

"It doesn't matter what you did or said or didn't do. Whether its justified or not, she has a reason to be angry. Accept it. Now, what counts, is how you handle it…"

Those were the parameters he'd been given. Vague as they were, he saw the sense in it. How a battle starts matters a lot less than how it ends. And so he found himself holding what was, probably, the most superfluously inane object he had ever spent good money on in the form of a tiny white teddy bear attached to a key ring. The administrative staff outside her office were giving him curious looks, the twitters of girlish delight putting him firmly on the edge of a tactical retreat to preserve his pride. He felt a heat in his cheeks he hadn't felt since their first kiss, but it was distinctly less enjoyable.

Before he could knock, the door opened and a harried Relena Darlian nearly bowled into him. The woman moved like a bolt, sometimes.

"Heero? I thought you'd be in Mauritania by now?" Her hair was out of place, and a light brown stain on her blouse told him she'd ran with her coffee this morning. She would be stressed...

He felt his blood pump harder in his chest, especially with their now enraptured audience in attendance, and tried to focus on her. The end goal.

"I asked another agent to take it for me. I didn't want to leave you angry." He realised at this point that he had no idea what he was going to say. So as always, when all else fails, he followed his instincts.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to be the reason you're upset. But I'm…this is new. To me. I need you to give me my parameters so I don't mess up. I don't want to mess up. So for now…"

He was babbling at this point, and he did the only thing he could think of, the one part of this that was actually planned, and held out the tiny bear in his palm.

She plucked it from him and dangled it before her eyes for a closer view, silent. He saw the beginning of moisture in her eyes and began to panic. How? He was certain that he'd trodden through this with the utmost care!

And then she laughed, a light, sing-song that never failed to make his heart skip. "You really are a _dork_ , Agent Yuy."

Heero shifted on his feet uncomfortably at her sudden inexplicable mirth. He should have been more disgruntled with the accusation than he was, but her laughter made it palatable. Laughter wasn't anger, not by a long shot.

"I wasn't angry at you. I was angry at the Finance Minster. He was on the Bluetooth when you were trying to talk to me this morning."

Heero felt like he'd been doused with a bucket of cold water, and all too quickly afterwards the unpleasant heat in his cheeks returned with a vengeance. Not…at him?

He saw the handful of overtly entertained administrators huddling together and chuckling behind their hands, eyeing him up like an exotic feature at the zoo and the only thing he could think to do was _escape._

And as if by some psychic link only she seemed to possess, she pulled at his collar and dragged him bemused and only slightly humiliated into her office, wearing a smile that promised so much and twirling a little teddy key ring around her finger.


	3. Chapter 3

Too many people had warned her, some subtle, some not so much, that in order to be content with a long-term relationship with Heero Yuy she would have to re-evaluate her expectations. They made some very good points. He was not raised to anticipate such a relationship in his lifetime, let alone how to navigate one. She was, for all intents and purposes, a happy mistake; she was the prize of a war he didn't expect to live through.

But Relena felt her expectations were on the mark. She couldn't quite picture Heero bringing her flowers or chocolates, or breakfast in bed (unless she was ill and he felt the need to force it upon her). She certainly couldn't picture him singing or dancing or getting down on one knee with a diamond. That wasn't him and anyone that wasn't him she had no interest in.

"What's this?" she questioned as she took the stack of manila folders from him. She'd wondered where that stack had gotten to.

"They've been sitting on your desk for two weeks. You should know," came his blunt reply.

She recognised them then, that same daunting stack that had been glaring at her from the corner of her vision for a couple of weeks now. It was April, a start to the new fiscal year and the exact time when everybody suddenly remembered they had expenses, and contracts and proposals to sign off before the audit office came knocking. A spiteful part of her wanted to send them back with a particularly strongly worded sticky note but that would be neither productive nor becoming of her character.

"I promise, I'll do them soon. This week even. Ironically, I need to get the Cabinet Minister to sign off on hiring a new PA and I'm only a one woman army."

"They're done. I forged your signature on those. These three are so poorly written I couldn't make them out." He held up another three folders and stacked them horizontally on top of the pile she was holding. "Come and eat."

Relena must have looked much like a goldfish for a moment but soon found her cheeks pulling into a smile.

"Thank you," she raised onto her tip toes, taking a quick glance across the hall for decency, before pressing her lips to his cheek.

As she came away she saw pink adorning the tips of his ears in a way only he could make look so endearing and her smile widened. "Let's eat out tonight, yes?"

At his stiff nod of consent she placed her newly autographed stack onto the empty PA's desk outside her office and linked her hand through his, a light gesture they only dared do with careful surveillance but one she knew he somehow appreciated more than any kiss or confession. It told him she was there, she was alive, she was his.

And they were wrong. Relena's expectations of romance from this man were far from repressed. They were grand and spoiled. He'd simply redefined romance.

A.N. Only Heero could make forging her signature romantic.


	4. Chapter 4

Bar the initial shock of seeing a teenage boy emerge from inside the cockpit of one of the five deadliest weapons on Earth, and time and again proving to be such a weapon in his own right, Zechs had never in his mind thought of Heero Yuy as anything other than an adult. His strength and maturity spoke for themselves and for all the tell-tale physical signs of his relative youth, Zechs never forgot that fact.

But there were times that the truth of his age was so apparent it startled him, as if breaking an illusion. As he watched his rival pilot's face turn bright red all the way to the tips of his ears, looking as though he might simultaneously disappear through the floor and float away, all for the touch of his own sister's lips to his cheek, he remembered what it was to be seventeen years old and completely baffled by the opposite sex. In truth, it hadn't much improved with age but it was at least a fact that he had come to accept and thus no longer affecting him so.

He saw the other pilot necking painkillers before their monthly brief and remembered his training years, when the muscle on his body had grown at an alarming rate and his height rose like spring grass. He felt a pang of empathy for the guy; he was in for a world of discomfort over the next couple of years.

He saw the way his eyes, whether he realised it or not, latched on to the object of his apparent affections in places that were not entirely wholesome and the subtle shift of his hips and legs to accommodate the involuntary discomfort this had on his body. Zechs remembered the many trial and error efforts he had spent trying to get that little trick right and the mortification when he'd gotten it very wrong.

He saw the little disagreements he had with those he would call his comrades but were in truth his friends. He saw teeth grating, cold shoulders, death glares and internal politics. And he remembered the Commissioner's Academy, the time Noin didn't speak to him for two weeks until he apologised for making her look a fool in front of her commanding officer. He hadn't meant to of course, and she'd acknowledged much later that it was just her pride talking more than anything else. But it reminded him that such things carried so much weight at that age, and for all of Heero's 'fights' with his fellow pilots, there was nothing more to them than the melodrama of the teenage politica.

And together, these things served to remind him of something that had once left him feeling riled, but now gave him a sense of something more surreal. Through all of the aches and growing pains and awkward transition, this boy had gone from well-trained assassin, to expertly skilled pilot to an unparalleled agent of the Preventers Corps. And with each reminder, his respect for the boy grew, and he looked forward to the day he would call him a man.


	5. Chapter 5

The sound of the alarm was always an unwelcome intrusion on her already intrusive life, but today, for some reason it _sounded_ almost evil. Like it was mocking her and taking far too much joy in her misery.

"Good morning." She opened her eyes at the familiar voice of her bodyguard, and the first thing her eyes perceived was the flashing red of her alarm coming into focus against a backdrop of darkness.

05:15.

"Wh...what?"

She felt a weight on the bed beside her and she sat up with what felt like creaking joints. What on earth was going on?

"Is something wrong? What happened?"

She took the cup of coffee he offered her and blew on the top to cool it some. She felt the tumble of panic clench at her stomach, and she'd need the caffeine.

"You need to get dressed. Something comfortable, easy to move in."

His voice was deadly calm, but then it was always that way. In her sleepy haze she had trouble reading him more than ever. Easy to move in? Her mind began running over all the possible reasons she would need to be mobile at evil o' clock in the morning as Heero packed her laptop away into her bag from its perch on her bedside table.

"Heero, what's going on? Tell me."

"Get dressed. We're already behind schedule."

She did as he asked, knowing by experience that when he used that tone, it was in her best interests to do so. She hadn't always been so acquiescent. She quickly pulled on some sweat pants and, for lack of anything else, one of his resident shirts that he'd long since grown out of. He asked for comfort, and she blushed to admit that the small collection of his abandoned teenage articles gave her just that.

"Drink that up. You'll need it."

Without thinking, she downed the rest of her coffee, still slightly on the scalding side, and followed him down the stairs, giving her pumps a quick adjustment for comfort's sake.

She found him at the bottom, his Preventer jacket discarded and holster hanging from a peg by the door. Why wouldn't he need his gun? He never went without his gun.

He threw something in her direction and she barely caught it with a surprised gasp. A water bottle?

He bend down before her and strapped something around her thigh, before taking the bottle from her hand and slipping into the elastic holster.

"Make sure you stay hydrated. Take a drink every ten minutes. Try to keep up."

What?

"Heero...are we going running?"

If the next words out of his mouth weren't _of course not, we're going on the run from a very credible threat against your life_ , she would have to rethink her policy on violence.

"No."

She let out a breath of relief. She knew Heero wouldn't do this to her, not without good reason.

"We'll start with a jog. When your fitness has improved, we'll move on to running."

Relena started at him, completely bereft of words. He wouldn't. He couldn't! Sleep was the one thing she loved more than life itself, and he was taking it away from her!

"WHY?! Why would you do this to me? It's still _dark!"_

He ignored her, tying the laces on his own pumps before punching in the code for her home security. "Out." He grabbed her hand and she instinctually dug her heels in. The look he shot back at her would have made lesser people very contrite. She was not a lesser anything.

"NO. I'm going back to bed, and getting some rest. If you haven't forgotten, I have a twenty hour space flight today!"

"I know. You've been taking a lot of those recently."

"Then let me rest!"

Her voice was beginning to verge on inappropriate for this time of morning. This wasn't the Darlian mansion, and her neighbours on either side of her town-house would not appreciate the same rude awakening she'd had.

"Relena. Space flight isn't something people are meant to do one a regular basis. Even the pilot has to take a week's break between flights, and they're in peak physical condition. You're not."

Her anger dropped a little in favour of her confusion. How did space flight relate to getting her up in the dark to march her through the streets of Brussels in her slob-wear?

"You're going to have to be very direct in your explanation, Heero, or so help me, I'm requesting a day guard."

He shot her a look. She hated that look. That look made her feel so very inferior, and he was the last person she wanted to feel inferior to.

"Zero gravity isn't good for your body. It misaligns joints, reduces elasticity, and causes some of your vital fluids to congregate at certain points rather than circulate properly. In the last month alone, you've spent 192 hours in such conditions. That's three times more than the legal limit for a pilot. You need to exercise to offset the effects. We'll start slow. I know you're not used to this."

She stared after him as he jogged lightly down the stone steps of her home, only nodding slightly to acknowledge that she'd heard him. As she joined him at the bottom, she suddenly felt self-conscious. She shouldn't be angry at him. He, as with everything he did, was doing what he knew to be best for her. But she'd never ran before in her life, not even at school. She'd taken equitation on purpose to avoid track and field. She was probably one of the least athletic people on the face of the planet. And now...she was about to display that same ineptitude to all of early Brussels.

"Heero...I don't know how."

She felt a heat tingle her face at her confession. She knew she could tell him anything, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing.

"I know. That's why I'm here to show you. Stay at my pace, keep your arms close to your body, and make sure you tread lightly. No flat feet."

And with that he was gone, off at a mellow pace before her, and with some residual hesitation she began to move after him.

After some awkward movement, trying to gauge the way her feet fell on the ground and adjusting her position so it felt less heavy, getting some spring in her step, she decided that it wasn't too bad.

She sped up a little to catch up to him and smiled. Actually, the cool morning air was quite pleasant, and the beginnings of red morning light were beginning to peek out of the clouds ahead of them. It was a sight she didn't see often enough, but could certainly get used to.

He fell into step beside her and his appraising eyes had her fighting a blush. He knew he was just checking her form, making sure she didn't injure herself with this very new level of activity, but her mind had a way of twisting things between them.

She wondered if he saw her body, and if what he saw was pleasing. At twenty one years old, she wasn't a girl anymore, and liked to think she'd filled out her adulthood well. She wondered if he thought the same.

"You're doing well. Try to focus more of your step forward rather than upwards. Also, you'll need to..."

Relena would have normally put it down to the tinge of the morning light, but Heero's face was undoubtedly sporting a blush. Her heart fluttered, finding it utterly endearing.

"You'll need to find a more suitable...undergarment."

Undergarment? She followed the line of his sight and her own blush burned furiously as it settled on her chest. Below the bagginess of his old shirt, her womanly features, now more prominent with maturity, were moving almost unhindered by her daily t-shirt bra along with her movements.

She stopped in her tracks immediately and crossed her arms over her chest, looking around the morning-lit streets of townhouses for anybody who might have been watching.

"I can't do this! What if people had seen? I'd be in the next day's rag with all sorts of horrible headlines over me!"

To his credit, his voice betrayed none of the blush painting the tips of his own ears. "I hadn't realised that such activity would have this...effect."

They stood there, an awkward silence passing between them filled only the by the sound of the occasion morning lark or car going past them. What more could she say? They could hardly continue on now. But part of her thought of time alone with him, watching his finely muscled physique trail ahead of her, his coercions gentle but commanding, and was saddened for it to stop. Even if it did mean a 5am start...she wanted to see it through.

"We can do this tomorrow."

She looked at him, to find him smiling at her, a smile she only ever seemed to catch when nobody else was around to see it. "You can go shopping tonight. You're not getting out of this that easily."

Her face lit up, and she felt her heart become light. He did this to her, always totally without warning and catching her unawares. She wondered if he realised how easily he held her happiness in his hands, with so little as a smile and a thoughtful cup of coffee he could make her entire day.

As they walked back the way they came, back to her home, she saw the sun finally come up fully over the tops of the Brussels skyline and felt happy, for once to greet the morning.

"Heero?"

He looked down at her, the smile still present in the same intense blue eyes that had begged her to believe in him, and she knew that come what may, she would tell him what he meant to her. One way or another, but soon.

"I look forward to it."


	6. Chapter 6

It started when Quatre had broken free of the stranglehold the Zero system had on his sanity, just in time to witness an event he couldn't have known would rip through his heart. He knew then, with an immediacy that spoke of its strength and potency, that the man he had just killed would own his soul.

And so he did. Three years after, and much patchwork with time and the help of a level-headed Heero later, he was eighteen and the very much alive Trowa Barton was sipping a mug of coffee that looked almost pitch black. Quatre didn't understand how he could drink something so cloyingly strong.

"You know, they say if you drink too much coffee, you'll never have a decent night's sleep." He chirped, opting to swirl a spoon around his English tea.

The other man smiled gently over the rim of the mug before putting it down to add some sugar. "I don't sleep much anyway. Call me a night owl."

Quatre nearly choked when he saw his friend dump two large tablespoons of white sugar into his beverage. "With that much sugar, I can't imagine why."

Trowa chuckled, and made a satisfied sigh as the next sip rose to his satisfaction. "It's not sugar that keeps me awake."

The blond haired man furrowed his brow in confusion. Was Trowa restless because of the war? He hoped it wasn't because of...what he did. Being on the other end of the twin buster rifle couldn't have been a healthy psychological experience for anyone. But he had to ask, even if he didn't like the answer. He would face his guilt, with this man especially.

"Is it me?"

The corners of Trowa's small smile fell, and his forest green eyes widened, before looking determinedly down at his coffee.

"Yes."

Quatre felt the threads of his patchwork tug, threatening to undo. But he gulped down another wash of lukewarm milky tea and pressed on.

"I'm sorry. I can never be more sorry. Not ever. You should never lose sleep over me. I don't deserve it."

Trowa's eyes immediately lifted, shock flickering through his emerald orbs as though a shadow on a wall. And then he stood. And Quatre feared he would walk out and his back would be the last he ever saw. His patchwork frayed at the corners.

But the feeling of Trowa's large hand cupping his cheek froze it in place, before his heart beat at a hundred, thousand times a minute. He couldn't prevent the blood running to his cheeks and over his ears. One touch, and he was alive.

"It's you." The feeling of soft, wet velvet and sweet pressure on his lips was something he would cherish. And as he felt the patches on his his heart mend and fade, he tasted the sweetness of coffee on his tongue.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm sure it's learned its lesson."

Sally stopped typing and looked over her shoulder at her partner at his unprompted interruption. He reach over her to put a steaming mug of tea down in front of her, purposefully avoiding the plethora of novelty coasters on her desk.

"It who?" she asked, swinging her chair around to face him as he took a seat at his own desk behind her. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair; if this was one of his games, she was in no mood.

"Your keyboard," he nodded, motioning to her slightly cluttered desk with a passive quirk of his eyebrow, "if you could keep it to below a three on the Richter scale, my eardrums would be grateful."

Anybody else would have found themselves resisting the urge to clock the Chinese special agent. He had that effect on people. But after several years working together, day in and day out, she was used to the former pilot's quirks more than she was comfortable admitting and Sally felt her shoulders lose tension she wasn't aware had been there. _What's bothering you,_ he was asking.

"I got an email from my grandmother. Or…something resembling one." She quickly tapped a few keys forwarding the offending message to her partner, and his disbelief at the jumble of mismatched characters and poorly interwoven English and Mandarin mirrored her own. Honestly, if the old bat couldn't master a simple dual-language keyboard by now, she should just stick with what she knew.

She saw his eyes flicker over the words, brows creasing every now and then in an effort to bring meaning to them, before an amused snort finally told her he was finished. She grimaced; she should have known better than to expect sympathy from Chang Wufei.

"She has a point," he swung around facing her, giving her an appraising look she somehow felt was more judgemental than objective.

"I am _not_ on the scrap heap," she snapped, taking a hearty swig of her tea before instantly regretting it in the form of a scalding burn on her tongue, "I did marriage once, and chose to _un_ do it." She barely got the last of her sentence out coherently before coughs punctuated her disagreement with Wufei's thermally overbearing tea.

"You don't exactly do yourself any favours. Stop pandering to the woman. The second she realises you're not going to give her a new wedding to show off, the sooner you can stop asking the tech department for new keyboards."

He had her trapped there, any by the smug look on his face, he knew it. She was a coward, she knew that, for her complete inability to back mouth the matriarch of her prestigious clan. It was something that only someone like Wufei could truly understand, the intricacies of clan culture, but unlike her he had born no qualms about telling his own grandmother to kindly shut it. She hated feeling like a coward in front of him but also knew he was he only person she felt safe to.

"…she's also wrong, you know." Her eyes flicked to his in an instant. Gone was the judgement, the teasing, his own brand of dry, blunt humour replaced with the kindness that she'd seen in him since he was merely a child in her eyes. _Not so much a child anymore._

"You're worth a hundred young brides." He said it with such seriousness and such lack of any irony that she almost forgot that the man who spoke them was a decade her junior. Her face felt hot. "And you know my position on your ex." He added with a forced edge to his voice, an obvious attempt to correct his uncharacteristically endearing tone before turning back to his work.

And that was the end of the matter, and she knew she wouldn't get anything else out of him for the rest of the day. While usually something to celebrate, she felt a since of instant loss and wished, foolishly, that he would turn around again and say something. Anything, really.

"And what would that be?" She asked, her face glowing hot from the instant regret, knowing she'd pushed the conversation too far beyond his comfort. She felt herself physically recoil, body twitching to return to the black mirror of her computer screen and stay there. With her back to him, she would be safe.

He paused in his typing, and her tummy floated in anticipation of his reply, before his soft chuckle made everything seem so very okay in a way only he could.

"I'm surprised he dealt with you as long as he did."

 _He wasn't strong enough to stay by your side._

When the plain GPS map on her screen seemed to blur into a mess of colours and shapes, Sally took a deep breath and forced herself to focus, past the noise in her head and her chest and the warm throb in her fingers and toes.

And then she knew she was in trouble.


	8. Chapter 8

They day Heero realised that he was no longer restricted in the amounts he ate, by means of a bank account and regular Preventer paycheque, he began to eat more. Logically speaking, he was still growing and he needed the fuel, especially as he was a good half a foot shorter for his age than he should be.

He soon learned, testing the limits of his newfound freedom, that he apparently _had_ no such limits. He stayed up entire weeks at a time, though not often, watching things on the screen that he'd believed all his life to be pointless and found them entertaining. He spent his money (because he actually had money) on things he wanted for himself, mainly computer parts, sometimes things he thought he looked good in, a regular sports massage, a coffee machine.

 **He** _ **ate.**_

The content was much the same; canned, dried or frozen generally speaking. Anything else upset his stomach after a lifetime diet of preserved goods and ration packs. But the quantity ever increased.

"Is that the same bar you were eating an hour ago or…" Duo's eyes wandered to the growing pile of wrappers on the other man's desk. Heero didn't deign to respond it was in fact his sixth of the hour.

Heero kept an extremely active lifestyle, and any weight he gained was purely muscular. Without a war to challenge him, he forced his body to grow through other methods. Climbing three mountains in 24 hours had been fun at the time, but he was soon working on an itinerary for a more comprehensive programme of works. His missions in themselves gave him his a daily burn and every now and again, one would come along that gave him the rush of burning breath and painfully stretched musculature.

By the time he was 21, a legal adult under the ESUN government, he had become what Relena called a "pin up". It had taken him a while, and some awkward internet searches, to find the meaning but when he had , he found himself inwardly satisfied.

So he let Wufei lecture him about minerals and vitamins and E-numbers, even when he brought Sally Po in to give him a thorough medical. She'd left that day grumbling about unfairness and how something would eventually kill him off.

He let the cleaner mumble curse words as she carried out his waste basket.

He let Quatre drop not-subtle hints that somewhere there were children starving for just a fraction of what he ate.

He'd earned this freedom, and as he ate his 6000th calorie of the day he thought about appreciative, wandering hands over his toned abdomen and let his ego soak in it.


	9. Chapter 9

On Marriage

"Your secretary's going to be a father? I didn't know he was married."

"He isn't." Her eyes didn't leave her laptop, but he was fine with that. She had a lot to do this week. "But, from what I can gather, that may change now. A wedding would be nice. I haven't been to a wedding since I was a girl."

"Would you want to get married?" He wasn't sure why he asked, but the wistful note to her voice and his own curiosity got the better of him.

Her fingers paused on the keyboard and she flashed him a small smile. "It's not a requirement. Most women love the idea of wearing a frilly white dress, while I'm honestly a bit sick of them. "

A small smirk pulled at his lips. He knew that was her way of letting him know she had no expectations of him. He'd known her for five years now, and she was still surprising him, but she seemed to have him pretty well sussed. "Good. I hate tuxedos."

"That's a shame. That's one of my favourite fantasies." Her work was thoroughly abandoned now, and she leaned back against her chair and chewed on the end of her pen.

"Fantasy? A tuxedo?" The fantasy concept was relatively new to him, but he failed to see how clothing could entice sexual desire.

She closed the top of her laptop with her foot and rest her crossed ankles on her desk. "I picture you, charming, handsome, taking me across the dance floor. There's people everywhere, but you lean in to me and tell me what you'll do me the second we're alone. To them, you're a prince. To me, you're...dangerous."

He chuckled. "Only you could have a gun pointed at your face and get hot under the collar." His eyes were fixated on her eyes as her ankles unlocked, giving him a teasing view of where her stockings ended and the soft flesh of her thighs began.

"It was one of the most erotic moments of my teenage life." She shrugged.

He loved her. This woman. She was her own shade of insanity and it complemented his perfectly. He saw the lust flicker behind her bright blue eyes and he felt fire lace through his veins.

It was about time they Christened her office.


End file.
